


Cocoon

by stoprobbers



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoprobbers/pseuds/stoprobbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, we’ve got a snow day. What should we do with ourselves?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocoon

Early morning grey light filtered in through the sheer curtains of the bedroom and onto the Doctor's face, through the too-thin skin of his eyelids and, finally, into his dreaming subconscious. He frowned, eyebrows drawing together in displeasure, and swatted at his face, trying to push the sun away. When that didn't work he reached for Rose instead.

"Rose," he mumbled, "Curtains."

He got nothing but silence in reply. Then his hand connected with cool sheets. His frown deepened and he felt around for a moment.

"Rose? Rooooose?"

 Still nothing. With a grunt of deep displeasure he popped one eye open, looking over to her side of the bed. It was empty. He grunted again and opened the other eye, pushing himself up to sit at the same time. His head swam for a moment, then snapped to painful attention; it was  _cold_  in the room. With a few uncharitable thoughts about his not-Time-Lord-enough body he reached for the flannel pajama bottoms, discarded by the edge of the bed the night before, and the cardigan haphazardly draped over Rose's vanity chair, pulling them on without bothering with pants, and sliding his feet into the plaid fuzzy slippers Jackie had gotten him for Christmas. Scratching the hair on his chest absentmindedly, he yawned as he shuffled out to the sitting room.

 "Rose?" he tried again, just before he caught sight of her silhouetted against the large bay window. She was curled up on the bench seat, wearing her robe and clutching a mug of tea. He could see the steam rising from it. Her hair was mussed and there were faint marks on her cheek from her pillow and he thought she looked so beautiful it made it hard to breathe. At the sound of her name, she turned and smiled.

 "It's snowing!" she said by way of greeting and only then did he take in the scene outside the window. Indeed, huge fat flakes of snow were drifting lazily but steadily to the ground, some of them catching on trees and bushes, others settling in growing mounds on the outer windowsill. It occurred to him that it might not actually be early, that the grey hazy light could be from the thick cloud cover, dispersed by the equally thick blanket of snow on the ground. He walked over to her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and sliding one arm around her upper chest to hold her close as he stared out into their garden.

 "That it is," he nodded, voice low and scratchy from sleep. "Does this mean we get a snow day?"

"A snow week, I'd reckon," she smiled, leaning back into him, "There's well over a foot out there. Look at the shed."

She's right, he saw; the snow was piled up in front of the shed door, rising about a third of the way up. A thought wandered through his head and he let her go, shuffling across the room and past the kitchen to the back door. Fumbling with the locks through his sleepy haze for a moment, he threw it open and found a slightly larger pile of snow blocking his way. It was almost as high as his knee.

"Oh, this is brilliant," he heard himself say, barely registering the sound of Rose coming up behind him and winding her arms around his waist. "I love snow."

"Mmm, me too," she agreed, nuzzling his back between his shoulder blades. The feeling made him tingle. "Never used to get snow like this in the other universe. London was too temperate. Something about the wind patterns here, I think? It's a bit colder in winter, hotter in summer, more weather for everyone. White Christmases and neighborhood swimming pools."

A gust of freezing wind blew snow onto the Doctor's bare chest and he yelped, slamming the door shut. Rose giggled against his back, still holding him tight, and he turned carefully in her grip until he could hold her in return. She released him with one hand, wiped the melted snow off his chest, and looked up at him, her tongue poking through her wide teasing grin. He leaned down and kissed her, coaxing the grin into something more wanton, something with quick flashes of warm tongue and the feeling of her fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He switched his grip, hauling her closer and kissing her deeper, feeling himself stir to life against her lower belly. She hummed, pleased, as a gust of wind howled outside and just at the edge of his consciousness. Cold air seeped through the cracks around the edges of their front door and he shivered, though he suspected that had more to do with Rose than the snowstorm outside. She noticed, though, and slowly, with a few lingering kisses, detached their mouths. He kept his eyes closed and pouted at her, but when he wasn't rewarded with another taste of her lips he opened them. She was smiling that same cheeky smile, this time with smoldering eyes. She let go of his shoulders and slid her hands down his arms, catching his hands, stepping back. He followed as she slowly started to lead him away from the door and back towards their bedroom.

"So," he tried, voice huskier with want now than sleepiness, "We've got a snow day. What should we do with ourselves?"

  
"I think," she drawled, stopping in the living room between the sofa and the doorway to the kitchen and nodding her head towards the large stone fireplace a dozen paces away, "that you should build a fire, and I should make some tea."  
  
"A fire and tea?" he squeaked, pulling her closer, trying to press the most insistent part of him against the soft parts of her. " _That's_ what you think? Because I'll tell you, Rose, I have some other ideas, some  _better_ ideas, I think, and I do believe you should listen to them–"

She laughed and swatted his arse as she slipped by him and into the kitchen.

"Build a fire," she said and was gone.

***

He hated the phrase "making love," but he was hard-pressed at the moment to think of another term that was as appropriate for what they were doing right now, or getting ready to do at least. Their tea, rapidly cooling, was sitting forgotten on the coffee table as they busied their mouths with the far more important act of kissing and nipping and licking on the overly-ornate rug (another gift from Jackie) in front of the fireplace. It was so completely cliché that the Doctor was almost disgusted with himself, with both of them, but the golden glow of the fire on Rose's skin was so enticing he couldn't bring himself to stop and change venue, or even point out that this was so completely cheesy it wouldn't even make the final edit of those awful made-for telly-movies she was so fond of. No, to do that he'd have to break away, sit up and pause for air, not continue kissing a path down the skin exposed by the gaping front of her robe to one puckered nipple, and that was entirely unacceptable.

Thankfully, Rose was more than happy to do it for him.

"This is ridiculous," she giggled, breathy and breathless and punctuated by a moan as he nosed the fabric completely off her breast and swirled his tongue around its pebbled peak. "In front of a fireplace! Could we be more cheesy?"  
  
"It was your idea," he pointed out as he let her flesh go with a loud pop, shifting to run his tongue along the crease where the underside of her breast met her ribs, which always made her moan. She did not disappoint and the sound shot straight to his crotch. He shifted, rubbing himself against her thigh and moaning in return when she lifted her leg to increase the friction.

"It's a snow day," she panted as if that explained everything. She wiggled to get the knot to loosen once and for all, the robe falling open and exposing her naked body to him and he paused, looking up to shoot her a wolfish grin before turning his attention to her other breast. One of her hands clutched his head, holding him in place as he flicked his tongue rapidly across the crinkled skin, while the other attempted to push his cardigan off his shoulder, giving up after a few minutes to work its way between him and stroke his chest and stomach, reaching down, down, down but not quite able to reach down enough.

"It's a snow day," she tried again, "That's what you do on snow days, you build fires and drink tea and watch bad movies and–and–oh would you hurry up?!"

"Do I have somewhere to be?" he teased, shifting back to watch as she wriggled out of her robe entirely. She lifted her hips once and nodded.

"Oh I should think so," she nodded enthusiastically and he chuckled, swooping in to kiss her deeply before pulling back and shedding his cardigan. The heat of the fire and the heat of her skin and the heat thrumming in his blood conspired to make him sweat and he wished, momentarily, for the cool air of their bedroom. She pushed on his shoulders, urging him down before he could get too lost in that thought, and he scooted back on his knees with a wicked grin.

"This was a stop I wanted to make  _hours_ ago," he complained, running his hands over her flat stomach. "I was all ready to visit there when I woke up. You were the one watching the snow, drinking, tea, insisting I build a fire while you made  _more_ tea. If you wanted my presence at this  _destination_ ," he rolled the word around on his tongue, trying to make it as filthy as possible, and by the look on her face he thought he might have succeeded, "I was willing to make the trip ages ago."

"What about now?" she asked. "Still have the wanderlust?"  
  
"Oh Rose," he murmured, shifting down to his stomach and pulling her legs wide before sliding his hands under her bum, tipping her just the right way, "You know the answer to that."

She did and she would have given it, he knew, but he didn't give her the chance, just buried his face between her thighs and took his first deep draught of her tangy taste. He heard the words die on her lips, replaced by a loud gasp, and took a moment to grin against her before resuming the task at hand. His tongue slipped up and down, around and around, dipping from her swollen clit to her dripping entrance and then back, teasing and testing but never stopping long enough to create a predictable pattern. Her thighs drew tight around his head, one hand reaching for his hair and tugging as a keening moan escaped her lips and he glanced up, just barely able to see the column of her neck over her arched torso.  He did have, he decided, an excellent view of her breasts from here and paused for a moment to appreciate it. She keened again, this time out of frustration.

"Oh don't…" she begged and he chuckled, sucking her clit into his mouth for a moment and bearing down, feeling her hips jerk and shudder as he did, then releasing her with a loud smacking sound. Her whole body went limp and collapsed back to the rug for a moment before she propped herself up on her elbows and glared.

"Rude."

"That's me," he said with a grin, kneeling between her knees and pushing his pajamas down over his hips. He saw her eyes on him as his erection sprung up once freed from its flannel prison, and stroked himself with one hand as she watched. "Still rude and still not ginge–oof!"

If he was still all Time Lord, he thought, moments like this would not happen, but he found it hard to be much more than slightly irritated by that as Rose sat up faster than he ever would have expected and knocked him down on his arse, ripping his pajamas the rest of the way off his legs before scrambling into his lap. He let go of himself to catch her instead, fingers digging into her hips as she straddled him, and her hand took his place. She stroked him once, twice, slowly, and his eyes fluttered shut as his head tipped back. Her hand was so small and warm and perfect. He felt her hot breath at his neck in the moment before she kissed that skin, pausing at his pulse to suck, leaving a mark in her wake. She shifted her hips, aligning them but not sinking down on him, choosing instead to move just the very tip of his cock over her swollen, wet folds. He groaned from the sensation.

"And still with a gob," she finished his little recitation for him, slipping him in just an inch. She let out a shuddering sigh but didn't move further. He opened his eyes and saw her staring back at him, a little wistful in a way he wasn't sure if he liked.

"What?" he asked, trying to lift his hips and drive himself into her but his balance was too precarious with both his hands still on her. He let go of her with one, leaning back on it instead so he could look up at her and maybe get some leverage. Her legs clamped down around his hips to hold him still as she brushed his hair back from his face.

"I love you," she answered. He smiled, a slow smile like molasses that he knew turned her to jelly, and tipped his head up for a kiss.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips when she bent down to meet him and that was when she gave in, sinking all the way onto him with one slick motion. They groaned, both of them overcome with sensation for just a moment, and then she began to move, rocking at first and then slowly rising off him before dropping back down. He moved his other hand off her hip and behind him, leaning back fully and letting her take control. She rode him slowly, trying to mimic the long, deep thrusts he'd give if he were atop her right now, and they both shivered with it. Mouths tried to keep kissing but forgot, missing and connecting with jaws and cheeks instead. He shifted his weight, bringing himself deeper inside her and his mouth back to her breasts, suckling as he started to meet her hips with his own, thrusting up every time she dropped down. She moaned and clutched his shoulders and slowly, slowly the began to speed up until the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire, the slap-slap of their bodies meeting, and the harsh echoes of their breath.

He opened his eyes and realized he could see the snow outside behind her, her skin glowing from the fire and even more golden in contrast to the blue-grey world outside the window. For a moment, without really meaning to, he could only focus on the snow and the feeling of her tightening around him, the way it made his blood feel fizzy and hot and liable to boil over any moment. Above him Rose was panting and begging, softly, for him to come, come inside her, deep inside her and he gritted his teeth and thrust even harder, willing her silently to do the same. He didn't want to beg, couldn't form the words, but he couldn't come before her, not this time, not when she was gold and life and outside was a thick blanket of white silencing the world and keeping them safe in its cocoon, safe and warm and slick and hot and come, oh, please Rose, come,  _come_ –

And then she did, with a squeak and a shout and he was right behind her, fire rushing through his blood and then out, into her as she clenched around him. For a moment the entire world disappeared, leaving nothing but the heat of her body and the scent of her skin and when he came back to himself his face was buried in the crook of her neck. He knew this spot well and knew that when he pulled away he'd find a shallow bite mark there. He kissed it, a small apology, and felt her shake her head.

"C'mere," she mumbled and he looked up just in time for her to catch his face in both her hands and hold him still for a long, deep kiss. At its end they both sighed, utterly contented, and he bent his elbows, lowering them slowly to the floor. She stretched out over his body for a long moment then slowly lifted her hips until he slipped from her and she could slide onto the floor next to him. She rolled away, wanting to clean up, but he caught her arm and pulled her back to him, cuddling her close and slipping one of his thighs between her legs. He didn't mind the feeling of his seed dripping out of her after sex; he also knew she didn't understand it, just like she didn't understand why he didn't like it when she waxed or when she lost a few kilos after a busy week. Still, she indulged him, cuddling up to his side and dropping her cheek to his shoulder. He shifted until he could get to it, dropping a few wet kisses on her lips, eyes closed and too heavy to open just yet. They kissed lazily, languidly, until the fire popped loudly again, startling them apart.

"So this is a snow day, huh?" he asked, brushing his nose against hers with a grin. "Is this what all humans do on snow days?"

"I'm not sure about  _all_  humans," Rose pondered, "But I'd certainly put my vote in for this to be  _our_ standard snow day activity."

"I like the way you think, Rose Tyler."

She grinned and he grinned back and kissed her again, short and hard and filled with more than a little promise. They did that a few times, neither really willing to separate, until a thought occurred to him and he pulled away. She regarded him, waiting.

"Although," he said, rolling them over so he was on top, "Once we can get outside again, d'you think we could make a snowman?"

Inside her laughter echoed through the house while outside the snow continued to fall, dampening all sound and keeping them wrapped in their cocoon. 


End file.
